Dear Not Jonas (Day 57)

This is a letter I wrote to Caroline on the 57th Day of my pregnancy.  I wrote several as a sorta of pregnancy journal.  I like this one because it helps me remember back to when all this baby stuff was more lighthearted.  Especially on days like today.  Tomorrow is the end of our two week wait and I'm not feeling really good about it.  Everything is just so intense.  

Dear Not Jonas,

The All Knowing Internets tell me you are 5/8 of an inch long right now.  I think you are probably bigger.  I have two reasons.  First, you pretty much hit the jackpot as far as jeans go, so you’re probably already more advanced than your peers.  Second, I’m convinced that something so small could not be torturing me the way you are. 

There are days I am certain I am not going to make it till the end of this journey they call pregnancy.  Those are the days I refer to you as Demon Spawn.  I was never planning on telling you about your fist nickname but your father assures me he intends to tell you so I figured I’d beat him to the punch.  One of those days was yesterday.  This is the text convo I had with your Aunt Destiny about it:

Me:  So every week I get an email telling me about my baby’s stage of development and every week it makes me mad!!  It’s not even an inch long?!!  How is it kicking my ass!!!!

Destiny:  Lol haha.  (This is text code for haha sucker!  Glad it’s not me!)

Me:  It’s not funny!!! I’m going to be dead before it’s bigger than a grape!!  I’m fairly certain it’s trying to kill me.  Fucking 5/8 of an inch.  Bullshit!

I know it sounds harsh but you’ve really been kicking the crap out of me for the last few weeks.  The past weeks nightmare has been an undefined “virus” that I just can’t seem to kick.

I have a theory on these “viruses” that doctors diagnose people with.  If a patient comes in with a bunch of typical, “I’m sick” symptoms like a sore throat and runny nose there are just too many things it could it be and they don’t know what the fuck to do!  So what DO they do?  They have created this thing called a “virus”.  The symptoms for a “virus” include everything and the treatment is NOTHING.  They say, “Well, gosh it looks like you must have come down with a pretty nasty “virus”, make sure you get plenty of rest and lots of fluids.”  Then they add, “If you’re not feeling any better in seven to ten days give us a call.”

SEVEN TO TEN DAYS!  Do you know how long that is to not breathe?  I know it is not something you are familiar with yet, but trust me you NEED me to be breathing.  Now for people who aren't carrying a Demon Spawn Tinny Miracle this is not a big deal.  There are millions of medicines you can buy from your local grocery or drug store that can sooth the systems of these so-called viruses.  HOWEVER, if you do happen to be expecting a little Bundle of Joy, you are on your own.  NO DRUGS FOR YOU!!!  This in turn means no breathing or sleeping.  This makes getting “plenty of rest” nearly impossible.  And that means that instead of going away, the “virus” turns into a Ninja Virus and kicks your ass all up and down China Town.  Here is how the end of my conversation with Aunt Destiny went:

Destiny:  Haha you are cracking me up.  Trust me you don’t want an enormous baby.  In 31/32 weeks you’ll be wishing your baby was smaller.

Morale of the story,  it looks like your Mom’s a little dramatic and a touch crazy.  But hey, at least she’s funny…